


Sugar and Flowers and Nice Things

by Bumblehigh07



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Daydreaming, F/M, If You Squint - Freeform, Kinda, Masturbation, Scent Kink, Stein's putting off grading, Teacher-Student Relationship, Underage Sex, procrastination
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-07-18 11:16:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7313035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bumblehigh07/pseuds/Bumblehigh07
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's your own personal hell and she doesn't even realize it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sugar and Flowers and Nice Things

**Author's Note:**

> This came to me at three thirty in the morning. It would not leave me alone.  
> Enjoy~

You wonder as you sit at your desk grading tests and papers just what she will smell like tomorrow. She smelled like Vanilla today. Like sugar cookies coming fresh from the oven. It left the room feeling warmer and you a little foggy minded. You berate yourself that you have to get these papers graded else it will just add on to your pile but you cannot help but wonder. 

She's been at the academy for only a week. And everyday she had smelled like something different. You're not sure how much lotion or perfume she must own but it is certainly up there in numbers. You can remember the first time you met her and how the smell of Raspberries and Pears followed her around with an underlying scent of vanilla as well. She had shook your hand and transferred the scent onto you. You carried it around with you all day, unable to shake it or remove it until you washed your coat and hands. 

You remember when she smelled of sweet Peppermint. It was only ironic that she had been wearing red and white that day, looking like the Candy Cane scent she wore. Your acute senses allowed you to pick up these faint aromas that others would usually miss or take too long to notice. Not you. No not you, Professor Stein. You notice everything. You notice how she smiles at you and how she walks away from your class. You can't help but notice. 

You set down your pen. The papers will have to wait you suppose because your mind is somewhere else. You set your head down so you may concentrate on her face. Her lovely, lovely face. It's sickening how your thoughts turn this way for someone so much younger than you. You could lose your job. Your reputation would be tarnished if anyone found out. 

You shut the door with a well placed Soul wave, relaxing once you know for a fact you are alone in your lab. Only then do you allow your thoughts to drift once more, to let your memory be filled with alluring scents of sugar and flowers and nice things. She has one that reminds you of walking through a forest during the winter, Pine permeating the air. You shift in your seat, your imagination taking a turn as you wonder how she would smell up close. You've only brief interactions and you're curious. 

You imagine how her skin would feel under your calloused hands, soft and delicate beneath your fingers and she would shudder. Maybe she would moan. She would look at you with those pretty eyes of her, pleading for something more while slowly pulling off your coat. You allow yourself the smallest groan and bite your lip as your hand slinks under your desk to your erection straining against your trousers. 

How would your name sound if she said it? Would it be sweet like her Vanilla smelling lotion? You like to imagine so. You like to think if you got her alone and it were somehow justified, if you got her worked up she would moan your name like a prayer. You'd kill just to hear it. Even if for a second. 

You've your cock in hand, stroking the way you think she would if given the chance. She knew when to take things slow and delicate and when to provide necessary force. You close your eyes and picture her soft little hands working over you, from base to tip and back again and grazing her thumb over the slit. You don't think she is experienced, but she'd test her skills. With you as her willing subject. She'd sit in your lap and trace over your scars. You imagined she'd be disgusted by the sight but it's nice to think she would be turned on by the sight of your marred flesh. Self-inflicted scientific experiments. 

You briefly let your thoughts wander to what it would feel like if she kissed the line of sutures running across your chest. Would she follow the cross-hatched stitches all the way up until, eventually, your scars were replaced with your lips? You can only imagine that she would taste as sweet as she smells.

You squeeze and let out a shaky breath, grabbing onto the edge of the desk with your free hand just as hers move faster. She'd watch how you reacted, store it in her memory somewhere to analyze later. This is all about you. She knows you love it so she let's you pull her close so you may get a whiff at her scent. Your memory plays out that morning's Vanilla and sugar. It has you shaking in your chair, your nails scratching the wood as you fight to keep silent against the pleasure coursing through your body. 

She would be the only one to do this to you. You're not sure why but for once you don't care to know. She would smile at seeing you so out of character. Once calm and collected you're reduced to nothing but pure raw emotion by a simple flick of her wrist and the faintest whiff of her smell. You're close but force yourself to stop, to squeeze and cut off the impending orgasm because that is what she would do. Deny you release till she found it herself. 

Then she would sink onto you, throwing her head back to let out a sound meant only for your ears alone. You would drink it up while thrusting into her, every last non-verbal compliment she could give you would take. She'd pull your hair, rake her nails across your skin to leave new scars, breathe hot against your throat without coherency. You would let her if only to be able to breathe her in, consume her, absorb her into your very being. You must admit, the Vanilla and sugar lotion is by far one of your favorites. 

You cum with a muffled groan against your arm, shuddering and falling to pieces in your chair as your hand grew sticky and sweat had your hair clinging to your forehead. You clean up with one of the moist towelettes you keep on handy, tossing it and sitting back up with aftershocks keeping you trembling. 

Your desk is a mess now. Some papers got knocked to the floor as well as some pens. The pen holder was tipped over, spilling it's contents over the surface and you even managed to knock over an empty beaker. Thank god it hadn't fallen. That would have been awful. You pick up the fallen materials and set them back into their proper places before standing and leaving for bed. 

The papers will have to wait you suppose. You plan on dreaming about the way her scent drugs you.  
She's your own personal hell and she doesn't even realize it.


End file.
